Ghent's theatrics may have continued, had Drust not intervened. At the sound of the heavy footsteps, Ghent lifted his head. He grit his teeth, bracing himself for a lecture of some kind. If Drust thought he could force him to finish the toatunt, he had another thing coming.
	Before Ghent could so much as turn his head, he felt a large hand grip his neck from behind. Needless to say, it wasn't the reaction he expected. His startled shout was cut short as he was lifted from the ground, his hands shooting instinctively to his neck. He remained suspended this way until Drust put an arm across his chest, pinning him in what could be viewed at the most terrifying bear hug ever.
	With the pressure off of his neck, Ghent drew in a panicked breath. "[i]Drust![/i] Don't-" he began to yell, but the Knight clasped a firm hand over his mouth. He was completely helpless, and Drust was absolutely furious. 
	A sick sense of dread overcame Ghent. Although he wasn't able to see Drust’s face, he knew this was the same Drust who had tried to run him through with a katana. This wasn’t the Drust created by Hatter, but the one lost to the Curse. This was the Drust that would kill them if he didn't regain control.
	Ghent’s heart hammered against his chest with every beat. He looked to Elayra pleadingly, silently begging her to do something. He watched as she was brave enough to face the much-taller male, going so far as to draw her own sword against him. Ghent dared to hope she had enough influence over Drust to change his mind, but she didn’t. If anything, her interference seemed to fuel the Curse more.
	The ferocity in Drust’s voice sent chills down Ghent's spine. The enranged Knight snapped at Elayra as if she was a dog, and she had no choice but to obey, else risk a potential double murder.
	Desperate, Ghent made a pathetic attempt to squirm loose, but Drust’s hold was too tight. He made a weak muffled sound as he tried to nod to show he understood what was said to him, but Drust didn’t seem to care. Ghent winced – more from fear than from pain – as Drust’s gloved fingertips dug into his cheek. He could practically feel the man trembling with rage, and his inability to do anything about it. 
	Amazingly, Drust found the inner strength to release him. Ghent landed awkwardly, visibly shaken from what had occurred. The shove against his neck made him stumble forward, and he fell onto the ground with a light thud. He started to push himself up as Elayra ran toward him, but his eyes didn't dare stray from Drust. The pure, unadulterated anger in the Knight's gaze was truly horrifying.
	Finally, Drust turned away from them. Ghent slowly straightened to his full height, his pulse thundering in his ears. He glanced at Elayra as she spoke to him, feeling the smallest pang of embarrassment for causing so much trouble. His life hadn't been the only one at risk.
	"Y-yeah.” Ghent’s voice shook as he answered, but he didn’t care. Elayra must have shared his fear that they weren't out of the clear, because she didn't lower her sword. He placed a hand to his neck absentmindedly, unable to help but stare. Even from a distance, he could tell Drust was struggling.
	Ghent didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He decided his best hope at pacifying the Knight was to follow orders without delay. With a rare, apologetic look in Elayra's direction, Ghent moved to retrieve the rest of his belongings, Drust's words replaying in his head.